


Oberyn Martell, First of His Name

by l_cloudy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Crack, Ficlet Collection, Gen, The Author Regrets Nothing, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By sheer accident, the Red Viper becomes king of the Seven Kingdoms.<br/>Then stuff happens.</p><p>(Cracky drabble collection. Author regrets nothing!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a forum poster asking who should come after Myrcella in the line of succession. Legit question. Which led to [this](http://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/topic/104390-line-of-sucession/page-2#entry5445416) and me thinking, ''hey, someone should totally write a fic about it!''  
> And then, “Hey, wait…”  
> (Set sometime pre canon. Just go with this, kay?)

It was, the maesters would later write, all done _in absentia_.

It had been a great tragedy, of course, the King’s death in that terrible shipwreck during his visit to his family’s seat. King Robert died like his parents had; and the queen and their children, and the king’s brothers as well, leaving the Seven Kingdoms in an uprising.

Lord Arryn, the King’s Hand, did his best to maintain the order. The new lord of the Stormlands, some distant cousin, was already starting to think he would make a fine king, and every lord of the realm was assembling armies and scouting the Seven Kingdoms for one of Robert’s bastards to put on the throne.

So he called a council.

It was a very long, very complicated affair. The Great Lords were on it, of course, and King Robert’s council, His Holiness and three of the archmaesters of the Citadel.

In the end, it was decided that Robert’s claim had come from his grandmother, the Princess Rhaella, and that the Throne should pass to the next House with the closest blood relation to the Targaryens.

The Martells.

“This is madness,” Lord Mace spluttered, once they were alone. “How can they –”

“They have the better claim,” Jon told him, quietly. “The Council has decided.”

He was quite relieved, truth be told. Doran Martell was a sensible man by all accounts, and a good ruler. _Just what the kingdom needs_ , he thought.

But Prince Doran declined.

Gently, of course, and as politely as one could be while refusing a crown. But his eyes were firm when he said that he had no wish to become king and no desire at all to leave Dorne for a title he couldn’t pass on to a daughter. He would be returning to Sunspear as soon as it was all settled, he said; before lightly bringing up the subject of his younger brother, who certainly had no problems with being away from Dorne.

“In fact,” Prince Doran explained. “He is in Essos right now,”

The High Septon Paled.

So did Mace Tyrell.

Archmaester Marwyn smiled instead.

“A most gifted man,” he said. “He was my acolyte once, you know.”

Jon wondered if perhaps it wasn’t too late to propose to legitimize young Edric Storm instead; but there was no turning back now.

Jon had gone to retrieve Prince Oberyn, camped with the Second Sons outside of Lys, and inform him of the Council’s decision – together with Marwyn, a few more envoys, and a messenger from his brother, telling him that he really wasn’t allowed to refuse. 

Not that he tried to.

As one of the envoys explained later, Prince Oberyn had only frowned at the news. Then he had smiled, wide enough to be downright frightening.

 _This_ , Jon thought, _will not end well_.


	2. Chapter 2

They passed Sunspear on their way to King’s Landing, but the ship was not allowed to land.

“My brother might decide to disappear,” Prince Doran had instructed Jon, but it was now clear that it wasn’t the case. Oberyn seemed to be enjoying the prospect of being king, as much as everyone would. Perhaps, Jon thought, even more.

That smile hadn’t left Oberyn’s face since they had left Essos, unnerving as it was.

“We aren’t stopping in Sunspear?” Prince Oberyn – no, Jon thought, the _King_ – asked, as soon as it was clear that they would not make land. “I thought my dear brother would want to see me.”

“It is important that we arrive as soon as possible, Your Grace,” Jon said, as strange as it was to be calling Oberyn Martell that. Only a few months ago, His Grace had been Robert, and Oberyn the man who hated him most in the whole of Westeros. _I’m getting too old for this shit_ , Jon thought, sighing to himself. “We have been too long without a king already.”

That might be the right moment to broach the subject of a queen, perhaps, but Jon didn’t quite feel bold enough. Maybe he would the next time he got drunk. _Really, really drunk_.

Oberyn smiled even wider at that. “And here I was,” he said, “thinking that we have been without a king for years now. But that’s what you are for, isn’t it, Lord Arryn?”

Next to them, Archmaester Marwyn chuckled.

“Those courtly types,” the older man said. “Never get anything done, mark my words.”

“Actually,” Jon cut in, feeling the beginning of an headache. Whose brilliant idea had been to send the archmaester with him on that trip? “The council in King’s Landing is already organizing the coronation. It will all be done most swiftly.”

“Really,” Oberyn said. “And will Lord Tywin be there?”

“I’m afraid he will not,” Jon said, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. The truth was that Tywin Lannister had left King’s Landing the moment the next king had been announced, and was now likely shut in Casterly Rock. “He is still mourning his daughter, and Ser Jaime…”

“Really,” the new king repeated, sounding even more interested. “I thought he was busy trying to hire some sellswords.” He paused. “Most of them are… friends, of mine. You should tell Lord Tywin that.”

“Now,” he continued, sparing Jon from trying to come up with a decent answer. “It is a real pity that we didn’t stop in Sunspear because now we will have to stop at the Tor, or our guest would not be able to join us.”

“Our guest.” Jon repeated, slowly. This was the first he heard about it. Which guest was it? Not some Dornish lord, hopefully. They were always trouble.

“Oh yes,” Oberyn said. “The lady Ellaria. You probably have not met her yet, but believe me, Lord Jon.”

“She really will surprise you.”


End file.
